


Keep to the Shadows

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, and their desire to murderlize the same, sisters bonding over hatred of slippery political schemers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 23:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11931255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: A missing scene from S7 E6 "Eastwatch"





	Keep to the Shadows

The hour is so late it’s almost early when Sansa slips out of the castle, silent as a ghost. Clutching her cloak tightly around her body against the frigid night air, she casts another wary glance about before stealing into the godswood. She has not dared to bring a lamp, and she stumbles once or twice before reaching the clearing where the heart tree stands, bathed in dim moonlight.

To her left, a shadow moves. It’s the barest flicker of motion, and Sansa doubts she’d have noticed it at all had she not been looking.

“Did he see you?” she asks quietly.

“Of course,” Arya says, her feet moving soundlessly over the snow as she emerges from the trees. “I made a proper racket with the lock. Twice.”

Sansa nods.

“He wanted me to find this,” Arya continues, producing a small scroll from her pocket and pressing it into Sansa’s hands. “A letter,” she explains, “from you to Robb, asking him to swear loyalty to Joffrey after our father’s treason.”

A bitter knot forms in Sansa’s chest. Yes. She remembers that letter all too well.

“Arya, I wrote that–”

“To avoid a war,” Arya finishes abruptly. “I know.” Her lips twist into a wry smile. “You’re not the only one who’s had to do things.”

That much Sansa knows. Arya speaks little of her life since last they met, but her eyes–hard, sad, haunted eyes–speak of nightmares untold. Her sister, barely seventeen, has the eyes of an old soldier. (Sansa had seen those eyes soften briefly as Arya spoke of a bastard smith, only to shutter with pain when Sansa inquired after his whereabouts. She has asked no more such questions, and Arya has offered no answers.)  

“He’s trying to set us at odds,” Arya says, interrupting her thoughts. “Why? What does he stand to gain?”

Sansa sighs. “Littlefinger does nothing he doesn’t see as a step toward the Iron Throne. I can’t presume to say  _why_ he thinks this will help, but he must.”

Arya scowls.

“We can’t kill him yet.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“He murdered Aunt Lysa.”

“And we have no  _proof_ that he did,” Sansa says. “We have no  _proof_ of anything he’s done, and we need the knights of the Vale–”

“Who are here for  _you_ –”

“But are sworn to  _him_ ,” Sansa reminds her. “They won’t turn on their lord without just cause, and my word alone isn’t enough.” She smiles joylessly. “Believe me, I hate him even more than you do, but–”

“He’s useful so long as he’s bending over backwards trying to fuck you,” Arya finishes.

Sansa swallows down the bile that rises in her throat at the thought. “Yes.” She sighs again, running her fingers idly over the weirwood’s craggy face. “How many within our walls report to him?”

“ _Too_ many. A half dozen that I know about, and who’s to say how many others? The man’s slippery as an eel,” Arya says irritably.

Sansa nods. It would be a lie to say she hadn’t expected as much. “So we keep up the performance.”

“I’ll pick a fight tomorrow,” Arya agrees, retrieving the scroll. “Somewhere everyone can hear.”

Sansa nods again, and as her sister evanesces into the darkness, she feels a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

For however long they must wait, Petyr Baelish’s days are numbered.


End file.
